


When You and I Owe Nothing More To Our People

by huhyouexist



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes are Best Friends, Clarke finally grieves, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huhyouexist/pseuds/huhyouexist
Summary: “You miss her.” Raven remarks, and Clarke only finds it within herself to nod. “I’m sorry.”“I loved her.” Clarke whispers, staring into those dug out eyes in the sand, recalling the real ones, so full of life and hope for the future. “I loved her and because of that she was killed.”
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 144





	When You and I Owe Nothing More To Our People

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my take on what should have happened at the end of the series because Clarke deserves to be happy too

The night after The Judge came to see her on Earth, Clarke allowed herself to mourn. To let the tears spill for all those she had killed, and all those she had lost. To finally truly feel what she had done, and let it out.

The others weren’t there when it happened, having already gone to sleep in the camp they had set up a ways away.

That was fine. They didn’t need to see her like this.

She bears it so they don’t have to. That’s how it’s always been, and how it always will be.

She just wishes it was a little easier than this. Easier than having the weight of hundreds of deaths on her shoulders, including her best friend’s. She wished for it, but knew it would never come true. She had committed those acts, and now she was going to have to live with it.

This was her penance. Her punishment..

Clarke supposes it’s better than dying, or being left alone. If she was left alone then she probably would have lost her mind.

So, in the dying light of the fire, embers sparking out onto the sandy shore as the wood cracks under the heat of the flame, Clarke cries. 

She misses, in her grief, how a person walks back to the fire, a blanket in hand, draping it over her. She jumps a bit at the contact, but upon seeing Raven smiling next to her, Clarke sniffles the last of her tears goodbye and composes herself as best she can.

“Shouldn’t you be getting to bed?” She asks, grabbing the edges of the blanket and pulling it more securely around her.

Raven sits down next to her with a sigh. “I could be saying the same to you.”

Clarke watches the fire once more, it’s warm glow reflecting off of them so elegantly, painting the scene in a dim but comfortable light.

“Do you regret it?” She asks.

Raven tilts her head. “Regret what?”

“Staying here, with me.” Clarke explains, turning to meet Raven’s eyes. “You could have transcended, why didn’t you?”

Raven moves her attention to the sky, exhaling as she says, “A part of me does, yeah, but we couldn’t just leave you here alone.”

“Why not? God knows I deserve it.” Clarke scoffs, grabbing a stick from the ground and fiddling with it in her hands. Slowly, she begins to point an end down and draws mindlessly.

“That may be true, but the same can be said about all of us.” Raven says. “We’ve all done things, and yes, we could have forgotten them and been at peace.”

Clarke waits for a further explanation, knowing one is coming and that Raven is just being dramatic with this speech.

“But that wouldn’t be fair to you.” She finally says, and Clarke’s drawing stops. Her head tilts to meet Raven’s eyes, a chocolate color in the fire’s light, different from their more darker appearance elsewhere. “You’ve sacrificed so much for so many people, and for you to be the only one to live with that is wrong.”

Clarke wanted to agree, but that would be selfish of her. “The things I’ve done…” Clarke starts, going back to her drawing. “They can’t be forgiven, or forgotten.”

Raven’s hand meets her shoulder, squeezed firmly. “Which is why we’re here. To help you.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Clarke.”

Clarke freezes, processing her words.

“We want to be here, and frankly, we’re not taking orders from you anymore, so don’t try and make us feel guilty about it.”

Clarke feels her eyes sting once more, and her hand stops her drawing. There in front of her is what Clarke recognizes to be a picture of Lexa, smiling at her from her place in the sand.

There was one thing Clarke had left out, and it was the fact that she was mourning Lexa’s death all over again.

Seeing her face again, only for it to be an imposter, brought up all memories of Lexa. Seeing her there, but knowing she wasn’t the same Lexa as the one who died in her arms was a special kind of torture Clarke didn’t know she would ever have to face.

In truth, Clarke doesn’t think she ever fully grieved in the first place. There was always some disaster or word ending event that took precedence. She never got the chance to just sit down and feel her loss. Feeling the way her heart had been ripped from her chest the moment Lexa’s eyes faded away, all life drained out of them as her last struggling breath was taken in Clarke’s arms.

“You miss her.” Raven remarks, and Clarke only finds it within herself to nod. “I’m sorry.”

“I loved her.” Clarke whispers, staring into those dug out eyes in the sand, recalling the real ones, so full of life and hope for the future. “I loved her and because of that she was killed.”

Clarke buries her face into her hands, letting the tick drop to its place in the sand. “I didn’t even get to tell her that I-”

“Hey.” Raven says softly, pulling Clarke in for an awkwards side hug that quickly turns into a full one. “She knew. I’m sure she did.”

Clarke says nothing, and Raven doesn’t ask her too. She simply allows Clarke to finally take a moment for herself, and breathe.

-

It’s a week later when The Judge visits her again.

Clarke was out on her own, hunting for their meal for tonight, using it as a chance to clear her head.

She had just spotted a bird, unknowingly out in the open and ready for Clarke’s precisely accurate gunshot.

“Hello Clarke.”

“Bwah!” She screams, misfiring and missing the bird, sending it flying up and out of sight over the trees. Angry, she flips around, seeing Lexa’s, no, The Judge’s form staring at her blankly. “What the hell?!” 

“How are you doing?”

“Peachy.” Clarke spits, standing up as frustration paints itself over her face. “Thanks, you just made me lose our dinner.”

“There are other animals.” The Judge dismisses quickly. “Please, tell me how you have been.”

“What do you care?” Clarke snarks.

Clarke begins to head back to camp, but The Judge follows her. “You intrigue me, Clarke.”

Said woman scoffs. “Of course I do.” She grumbles.

“The others chose to stay with you instead of finding peace.” The Judge explains. “I would like to find out why.”

“Well when you figure it out let me know.” Clarke jokes. “Now leave me alone.”

Clarke gets 10 feet away from the fake Lexa when she hears, “This woman, Lexa, you loved her yes?”

She freezes, and turns to face The Judge with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

The Judge laughs. “That’s a silly question, of course you do.”

Despite her confused state, Clarke asks, “What does this have to do with anything?”

“She’s an interesting human, I must say.” The Judge remarks. “From your time during the test, as well as Madi’s memories of her through what you call the flame, I can tell she was a great person.”

Clarke says nothing, not willing to talk to this...imposter about the woman she loves while she dresses as her. 

“So ahead of her time, and willing to work towards a more peaceful way of life. Is that why you loved her?”

No, Clarke wants to say. No, that’s not why. Clarke loved, _loves_ Lexa because she was Lexa. Because yes, she wanted peace, but she was kind, and brave, and strong, and _good_. She was willing to do anything for her people, same as her, and Clake found comfort in that. In being close to someone who understood her like that.

“Ah, I see.”

“What?” Clarke asks, confused.

“In this form I see you suffering, Clarke, and your thoughts. I understand this now, thank you.”

“Shut up.” Clarke grits.

“What?” The Judge asks blankly.

“Shut up!” She snaps. “You don’t get to come here, dressed up as her, wearing her face and get to tell me how I feel! Just leave me alone so I don’t-”

Her words choke up, and she falls to her knees, palms burying her eyes in a black void.

“So I don’t have to see her when I know it’s not really her.” Clarke finishes between sobs.

The Judge is silent for a moment, taking in Clarke’s stature before her, so broken and mournful. Full of sadness and loss that would make any lesser being than them sympathize with her feelings.

“I see.” The judge states. “Then I shall leave you be. Goodbye, Clarke.”

Clarke doesn’t will herself to check, but she knows The Judge is gone, and that only makes it worse.

Because parts of her wants the being to stay, because then she’d at least be able to see Lexa. It pains her, knowing that it’s not really her, but it’s...nice to see her face once more. It’s blank now, and void of that life it once so proudly displayed when she was alive, but it was her face all the same.

And that’s what hurt the most.

-

Two weeks later, The Judge returns with a proposition.

“A gift?” Clarke asks, the evening sun beginning to set down the horizon, painting the water of the river next to them a vibrant mix of yellows, oranges, and reds. “What gift? I thought this was a punishment.”

“It is, but Madi doesn’t like seeing you suffer like this.”

This makes Clarke backtrack. “Wait. She can see me?”

The Judge nods slightly. “In a way, yes. Our minds are all connected, so what I see and feel, she and all the others do too.”

Clarke nods, an acknowledgment that she understands. “Why give me a gift now when I’ve already been here for so long?”

“Madi didn’t like how I left things the last time we talked, and I have come to realize that this punishment is a bit unfair to you. So, after much deliberation, and in acknowledgment of your suffering and bravery through your hardships, we would like to give you a gift.”

“What is it?” Clarke curiously asks.

“I’ll need to explain first.” The Judge states. “You remember how I said Madi’s memories from the flame are with us now, correct?”

“Yes?” Clarke replies.

The Judge puts her hands together, intertwining them in front of her. “Well, using those memories, we were able to form a living representation of them.”

Clarke’s heart begins to beat a little faster as she pieces together what this gift might be. She doesn’t dare get her hopes up though.

The Judge steps aside, and Clarke’s eyes are drawn to a figure standing in the treeline, on the very hill Clarke had stood on just a few weeks ago while searching for Picasso.

Her heart stops altogether, because standing there, in the distance, was Lexa. Seemingly, in the flesh.

“She’s made from both Madi’s and your memories of her. She will age the same as you, and not join us when she dies.”

“Like the others.” Clarke breathes, eyes still glued to Lexa, who was beginning to smile.

“Very good, Clarke.” The Judge remarks. “Do you accept our gift?”

Clarke does not give them a verbal answer, instead choosing to walk towards Lexa’s. At that moment, Lexa begins to walk towards her, carefully trudging down the hill. Their paces pick up, faster with every step until their sprinting into each other’s arms.

Clarke laughs when she feels Lexa. Part of her thought that this was a trick, a hologram or...or _something_ other than her actually being her, but she was. She was here, wrapping her arms around Clarke the way they used to, so familiar and secure that Clarke all but melts into the embrace.

“I told you we would meet again.”

Clarke lets out a choked up laugh, pulling away so that she can see her eyes, so green, sparkling with life and joy. And most importantly, love.

Reaching two shaky hands up to make delicate purchase on Lexa’s cheeks, Clarke’s tears stream freely. “Y-Youre here...You’re really here…”

“I was always with you, Clarke.” Lexa says, in that same comforting, yet straight to the point tone that Clarke always admired but hated at the same time.

Clarke’s too caught up in the feeling of Lexa’s in her arms to say anything else. She’s here, and Clarke’s holding her again even though she died and-

“Clarke.” Lexa calls, taking her hands gently and pulling Clarke away from her racing thoughts. “It’s okay.”

Clarke watches Lexa smile at her so gently, so lovingly that Clarke can’t possibly believe that this is real. There is no way that Lexa is really here with her, holding her, talking to her.

And then Lexa kisses her, so slow and delicate. Patient and caring so that Clarke doesn’t have the feeling to jerk herself back in surprise. No, she could never do that. Not with the way those lips kissed her own, melting her heart as they had done all those years ago in that tent without her ever realizing it. 

She relaxes into it immediately, and on instinct wraps her arms around Lexa’s neck, pulling the girl closer, and begging for more. Begging to hold her tighter, love her harder because she isn’t sure if this will disappear or not. She hopes it won’t, but this is supposed to be her punishment. What if this was some cruel part of it?

But Lexa pulls back, and in the dying light of the sun, she whispers something that Clarke can’t argue against. Only the real Lexa would know it, so it has to be her.

“You and I no longer owe anything to our people, Clarke.” She whispers into her lips. 

Lexa kisses her again, and it’s the final confirmation for Clarke.

She was here, and she was here to stay. They could finally rest. Together.

Their fight was finally over.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
